


Heathens

by NotAGhost3



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Time Setting, Dubious Consent, E/C, F/M, Halloween phic, Horror, Hypnotism, Smut, Supernatural - Freeform, but also not e/c, drabble/short fic, erik is a vampire, gothic horror, gothic victorian vampires, there is blood because they are vampires, vampire, you'll see - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:14:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26991982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotAGhost3/pseuds/NotAGhost3
Summary: Immortality is not suitable for everyone...Short, dark drabble fic for Halloween. Vampire. E/C
Relationships: Christine Daaé/Erik | Phantom of the Opera
Comments: 38
Kudos: 35





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hiiiiiiii!!! This is not a new story, but rather a completed one that I published on FFN a year or two ago and thought because it's spooky season I should finally upload it on here! It's 8 chapters long and I'll be updating it from now until Halloween! It's a drabble fic and has vampire Erik!

It took him a long time to realize he was immortal.

He had always wondered why death never could seem to ensnare him, no matter how hard he tried. No matter how badly he had wished to melt into the dark depths of nothingness, never to hunt the cursed ground he was bound to walk for eternity ever again—

Then he saw her.

A precious, innocent _angel_ , cloaked in a blue bustled gown with blonde curls draping down her back stood on the other side of one of his trick mirrors meant to fool and trap his victims. A picture of ecstasy in its purest form. He could smell the blood pulsing through her veins, and his throat burned with desire. She would be an easy target. She wasn't large, hardly rounder than a twig and he doubted she had lifted anything heavier than a hairbrush in her life. _Yes_ , she would be divine and he would take her slowly, relish the feel of her blood on his tongue, then—

Then he _heard_ her.

A precious, innocent _songbird_ ….

The Earth revolved around her, his new discovery. He refused to share; she was the first ray of light he had seen in ages in his miserable, damp world. Her voice was silk and glass shards all at the same time, and he found his desire to hear her far overrode the painful burn that plagued his throat.

 _His_ precious, innocent songbird.

He knew he could never approach her.

So instead, he watched.

The mirror became a frequented spot in his daily routine, taking interest in observing the young lady doing the most mundane tasks of everyday life until his wicked blood-thirsty thoughts turned into wicked daydreams of this innocent creature doing…. _not_ so innocent activities. To him…and him to her… _together_ …

He felt a passion ignite down below that he hadn't felt in centuries.

As she lay asleep on her divan, her curls spread about her like a halo, he concluded that this diamond in a pile of dust couldn't be lost.

She was too….well….he couldn't place what she was to him. Precious? Desirable? Collectable?

His eyes softened as he looked at her again.

He knew what he had to do.

The mirror clicked open.


	2. Chapter 2

It was not the cold arms, nor the damp air that awoke her, but footsteps echoing on wet stone.

"Wh—"

"Hush now, sweet," hissed a voice.

Christine felt her stomach melt at the voice; deep and rich like warm summer nights.

She blinked her eyes open.

Darkness.

She turned her head upward to see a pair of eyes glowing yellow like a cat through the dark. She was being held tight to the chest of the owner of the mesmerizing eyes, her breasts pressed so close to him she thought they might implode.

_A man._

Her lips parted slightly as she gasped.

She was being _taken._

She rolled her head to look at her capturer again, torn between locking on his eyes or staring at the black leather that covered the remainder of his face. The skin of his neck that she could see behind his scarf was pale, much paler than any hue of skin tone she had ever seen.

She needed to scream.

Her mouth opened, ready to screech just as loudly as she could, when his head turned to look at her.

And his eyes bore down onto hers.

She hadn't _truly_ looked into his eyes before. The yellow was more golden and there were captivating swirls of shimmering brown seeming as if they went round and round almost as if in a circle the longer she stared.

"You will make no such sound," the voice firmly commanded.

"I will make no such sound," she repeated her back.

"Now sing sweet child, there is no need to fear," he lulled.

So she sang.

What she sang she wasn't sure, as her voice floated from her without her telling it to do so. She recognized herself singing Swedish, the words flowing effortlessly from her….he really did have beautiful eyes. Why would she want to stare anywhere else? Being kidnapped wasn't terrible as long as those eyes were there, and she was being carried—

She hadn't noticed being set down on a soft mattress.

A bed.

When had they gone inside? Or perhaps she had never left inside?

She looked away to place her hands on the mattress,

Her eyes went wide. This wasn't right, this wasn't her room, she hadn't a clue where she was, or who she was with, and this was not her room! Her breathing picked up as her heart raced.

A cold hand caught hold of the side of her cheek and turned her face away from where she was looking. It was the man. Of course it was the man! Who else would it….his eyes were soft honey like the kind that her father used to put on bread for her.

"Calm yourself," he said, laying her back against the bed.

Her heart stopped racing.

She felt a cold hand on the top of her left breast, its cold fingers grasping it and giving a gentle squeeze. Her hips then bucked up quite quickly against him without her command as if she were a marionette.

"May I?" he whispered, his eyes still locked on hers.

"Yes," she answered. helpless to the voice and the feeling in her groin that had never been there before.

She hardly noticed when the front of her bodice was ripped open and her nipple was taken into the man's mouth, rolled about between his teeth and his tongue. All she could focus on was arching upwards against him, her hands clutching the blankets under her. His hand replaced his mouth as his mouth moved to the other one, treating it the same. The sounds that were coming from her mouth were foreign to her as worked; sucking and kissing until she thought she could stand no more. His lips pressed against hers again and she felt her tongue pushing into his mouth before she could rationalize not to. She pushed up against him, deepening their kiss. She had never been kissed quite like this before and found that it was truly one of life's delicacies, and if it was by this man with his alluring voice and magnificent eyes, then who was she to argue? His hands had left her breasts and she found the urge to place her hands there and continue. How had she never done this before? She pinched and rolled all the while keeping her gaze solely on the eyes of the man atop her.

Then she felt the cold air around her creep between her thighs as she felt her skirt being lifted up past her hips and something hard, almost bulging pressed against a part of her that she considered her most private area.

"Spread your legs, my songbird."

So she did.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued...


	3. Chapter 3

A chill rattled through her as she felt a frigid hand scale its way up her thigh, the other teasing at a place she preferred to keep well hidden. Her hands left her breasts and instead reached out for the man's shirt collar, wrinkling it as her small hands fisted around the fabric. Her hips rolled again without her permission as he parted her folds with his fingers, and then—

 _Then_.

She wasn't sure what she was feeling.

His finger was sliding up inside of her, thin and almost smooth. She wanted to break her stare from the eyes she was trapped on and look, but she couldn't. Her eyes refused to look away. Slowly she felt his finger pull out and then go back in. Back and forth, back and forth, quicker and quicker.

It hurt for a moment, then it seemed easier, slicker, almost as if he had wet his finger—

Oh…

 _Oh_ ….

 _She_ had wet his finger.

She had given up control over the muscles that moved her hips up and down, blinded by the surge of pleasure she was feeling. Her breath hitched as she clutched his shirt tighter. Something had replaced his fingers, something _much_ different. Her heart picked up as a rush of adrenaline hit her. She thrust against him as he began going faster. She moaned as waves of fire washed over her. She moaned and arched to be closer to him as the world began going in and out in front of her eyes. She yelled out, whether it was from pain or pleasure, she wasn't sure as both sensations were overwhelming her at the moment.

Bright lights seemed to flash before her eyes as he continued and there seemed to be four versions of the man moving up and down on top of her, no _inside_ her. Yes, that's where he was. Whichever one he was-

Something was happening.

The walls of her womanhood were clenching, almost as if they were trying to hold him inside, and she felt an intense throbbing that seemed to spread to her whole body. She didn't know how to describe anything. It was like a button had been pushed and then someone had shoved her over the edge of a cliff into an ocean and she was just going along for the ride.

Drowning.

But in a good way.

Then she felt him collapse on top of her several seconds later. She laid there under him, numb. Her bodice was ripped nearly in half and her skirts were high above her waist.

Everything was exposed.

She could feel the tears streaming down her cheeks and out of her peripheral could see her breasts quickly rising up and down with every breath.

Before she had time to truly collect her thoughts, the man crawled closer to her and pressed another kiss to her lips.

He broke their gaze first.

It was like clearing through a fog.

There were so many questions running around in her newly rationalized mind that she wanted to ask, but only one question deemed itself important enough to voice at the moment:

"Who are you?"

His kisses slowly moved from her lips to nipping at her neck and she helplessly rolled her head to the side to allow him more room.

"A monster," he rasped.

The nipping turned into a single bite.

Her screams could be heard five cellars above.


	4. Chapter 4

The pain of a hundred tantalizing needles piercing her forced her awake.

She opened her eyes.

The darkness was lighter than it was before.

She let her eyes roam around for a few moments, taking in her surroundings. She could see every little detail. The scratches in the wood, greasy fingerprints on the wall, the threads of her nightgown she didn't recall putting on, specks of blood on the blanket around her-

Pain.

Her throat contracted.

The burning of a thousand trees on fire hit her throat and her hands raised to clutch at it, desperately attempting put out the invisible flames that had ignited inside of her throat. She tried to swallow, but her throat had seemed to have closed itself, as the fire raged on inside her.

Water.

She needed water.

Her head whipped around frantically looking for any sign of water, but there was none to be seen. She hissed out in pain as she held her throat tighter, barely noticing the other pain her body felt right between her thighs.

The door creaked open and her eyes shot up to see what caused it.

 _Him_.

The masked man.

And he had a goblet with him- of water it must be! She impatiently reached out like a child to its mother and he willingly gave it to her. She brought it to her lips and began to gulp as if she hadn't seen water in days. It was only after she finished that she realized it wasn't water than she had drank.

It was something better, much, _much_ better.

She needed more.

She lowered the goblet from her mouth and looked inside. A thick red substance slowly slid down the walls of the cup. She looked over at the man who now was seated at her side.

"What is this?" she whispered, afraid of the answer.

He gave a smug smirk. "I think you already know."

Her eyes widened in mortification.

 _Blood_.

She had just drank blood.

She wanted to be sick, yet it was the best thing she had ever had her life. She wanted to lick the cup clean, and then perhaps the blood specks on the bed weren't too dried up-

What was she thinking?

She was a madwoman!

She brought the goblet to her chest in fear of it being taken away. She had to get her mind straight. She barely remembered anything that had happened much before that morning. She remembered being carried and then being placed upon a bed, and then...oh...

She blushed.

But yet, there was no color at her cheeks. Her brain ordered her cheeks to blush but the heat never rose to her cheeks. Why hadn't she been able to blush?

So many questions, so many! She settled on the one she recalled to have asked him before.

"Who are you?" she asked, not looking at him.

A pause.

"Erik."

She nodded slowly, her stare on the cup in her hands.

"Where am I, Erik?" she asked next, his name rolling off her tongue as if she had said it all her life.

"Five cellars below the Opera House."

"So you can take me back...above?"

"No."

Her eyes finally shot over to look at him.

"Why not?

Then this man, this Erik, laughed. Laughed!

"My sweet songbird, if I were to take you back I'm quite afraid you would wipe out the entire population of Paris!"

She leaned back from him and shook her head.

"I don't know what you mean, I am harmless-"

"Harmless?" he chuckled, reaching out to place his hand under her chin. "My dear, haven't you figured it out yet? I didn't choose you simply because you were nice to look at it."

She flinched away from him. "Explain yourself," she stammered, her eyes focused on the piece of black leather that covered his face.

"Creatures of the night."

She shuddered, but allowed him to continue.

"I am one, and now you are one, I made you so. Isn't that just lovely? I spent months watching and waiting for the right moment to take you, and when I did, well," he picked up her hand and placed on a kiss to the backside of it, then continued to hold it, "you were marvelous, just as I'd hoped. And now, now I don't ever have to loose you, and we can sing together and be with each other for the rest of eternity, won't that be wonderful?" he explained, his tone entrancing her to listen to every word.

"What do you mean by creatures of the night?"

" _Vampires_."

She felt her world stop turning.

How was she supposed to process that information? It made sense, of course it made sense, but vampires weren't real. They were myths just like fairies and the angel of music. But yet here they both stood, very much real, and very much...she squeezed her eyes shut... _vampires_.

"No, thank you? No words for this creature who loves you and has saved you from a life of hardship?" Erik broke the silence.

"It's not right to play God," Christine cut him off, her lips in a firm line.

"Who said I was? Besides, _he owes me_ ," Erik answered, making a chill go through the room.

She had no response ready for what he had just said, her mind too in shock from all of the revelations that had been revealed to her in the last two minutes. Instead she focused on the hand that still held hers in its grasp. She swallowed very slowly before finally, finally meeting his eyes. His sharp, beautiful, golden eyes.

"Now then, where is my thank you I asked for?" he asked standing up.

Unblinking, she raised to her feet and stepped towards him and wordlessly pressed her lips to his in a kiss, his arms wrapping around her, pulling her close.

Her nightgown fell to the floor.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Personally this is my favorite chapter because things are finally shifting over to Christine’s POV !

Her breath came out in a hiss.

How long had it been? Days? Months? Minutes?

The throbbing continued, hidden deep within her. An awful, never ending sensation that followed her, haunted her through day and night. Or perhaps just night, for there was no day here in the cellar she was trapped in. Only night, only darkness, only thirst, only despair, only maddening need-

Only him.

That was the trouble of it all. It was not that she desired him, not that she loved him but that without him she could not survive; dependence was all she knew, the only familiar friend that kept her company in this underworld of horror.

She wanted to crush dependence like a bug beneath her foot.

She hated the dependence that he had forced upon her with this "new life", this "new chance" she had been gifted by him, she loathed the "freedom" she was offered by being forever held in a prison cell disguised as a house. She spat upon this life. Cursed, condemned and damned it in her mind until she broke down and prayed for forgiveness. Prayed for forgiveness from a God she wasn't sure was even listening to her desperate pleas anymore. Why would he? She was just as cursed, condemned, and damned as the creature she tried to pray away.

It was then that she cried.

It was the strangest thing: she could cry. So many other human traits had been taken away but that one remained. Each tear burned, but she relished in the pain. At least the tears were her own, at least he didn't command when they fell, at least she could _feel_ the pain they brought as she was made numb to so many other things. It was these times that _he_ came to her and wrapped her in his arms, apologizing and shushing her gently on the floor of the cold stone that no longer felt cold compared to her skin.

Compared to her heart.

For a moment, she could almost fool herself that she was human and so was he. That there was genuine care between them and that she genuinely wanted comfort from her fears. For a moment, she could almost love him.

But almost love was far different from the real thing.

He claimed to love her, but she knew this monster too well to be charmed and deceived by the false promises of love he offered her. She hadn't asked for this life, hadn't asked for him but here she was. Here _they_ were. He told her he loved her every chance he saw: loved her voice, loved her hair, loved her eyes that now mirrored the shade of his own, loved her soft skin, loved the wetness that he coaxed from her, loved the scars he had left on the back of her throat...she could go on and on. She knew better. He was nothing more than a snake, poised and ready to strike.

Rattlesnake and songbird- she'd heard this tale before.

But then he'd lean down and settle on the ground beside her, he'd cup his hand under her chin, and he'd raise her face to his-

Then she'd see his eyes.

Those beautiful, awful, dangerous eyes.

And the world fell away.

She knew she shouldn't look at them. Shouldn't give way to temptation and lock stares with him, giving herself willingly over, but it was better then. She wasn't in control then, she was a lifeless doll that was docile and willing. She couldn't think when she was lost in his eyes, didn't have time to dwell on the ill-fated deck of cards life had dealt her. Instead, there was only life, only surrender, only pure bliss-

Only him.

It was like drawing a circle in the sand.

She would look at him and believe every word he uttered.

Then he would kiss her, slowly and passionately just like a lover should, and she would hitch her leg over his hip as she let him lower her against the ground...

Why couldn't she just hate him?

Why after every lie and manipulation did she come back? Crawling after him like a drunkard in need of alcohol. Why did some part of her compel her to stay, what gene in her dared to act on its curious instincts? It wouldn't be so difficult to hate him if he didn't provide her with the solution to her throbbing, with the water for the flames that constantly raged inside her, grasping to be released. It was easy to pretend then as the creature took over and she wasn't in control of her actions and desires. It was quite simple to be content in those moments.

But that too ended.

And he would look away.

And the world would come crashing back down.

It was quite easy to hate him then.

The throbbing continued, beating between her legs in a battle against the burn of her throat. The two constant, consistent needs that only _he_ could fill.

_Only Erik..._

Her eyes narrowed from her place in the doorway of his music room as she watched his fingers play out notes that she was positive had been tapped on the inner most parts of her. Music was perhaps the only wholesome thing she had left but he was in every note, his voice the most incredible thing she ever had the misfortune of hearing.

Christine wasn't sure of many things, but as her tongue traced over her blood-stained lips she was sure of one thing: she had to escape.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	6. Chapter 6

"Where are you going, _sweet_?"

Despite the gentle sound of his voice, the ice of his tone impaled her. She went rigid upon his query, her back straight and her chin lifted upward. She clung to the plush wool of the cloak she had grabbed, eyes narrowing in annoyance.

Why must he always be so observant?

"I was cold," she blurted out before she could properly think up an excuse.

A hand on her shoulder stopped her breath.

"The truth."

She heard the familiar click of the heel of his shoe on the stone floor, alerting her of his coming closer.

"If not...there are other ways..." with that he prodded her to face him, turning her around with nothing but the hand that still laid on her shoulder.

She kept her eyes downcast.

"I wish to go above."

A pause.

"So soon?"

She wished to glance up to see the expression of his face, for he never wore the mask around her— no matter how many times she had wanted to ask him to please put it back on, she hadn't gained the courage— or perhaps to simply glare at him for his impertinence. She had to be careful though; she couldn't give herself over to the eyes if she were to ever get out. One look and she would be lost and she couldn't do it again, refused to do it again!

"Pardon?" she asked instead, raising her head to look to the side of him, past his shoulder.

"You are much too new...it's dangerous up there; what would I do if you were to expose your nature or if you were to kill someone out in public? You are not a murderer, are you? No, of course not, that is for me to worry with. Not to mention the sun, my dear, there is much you neglect to consider in your rash decision making."

At this, her lips tightly pursed, and if she still had the ability to do so her cheeks would have been flushed from embarrassment.

Of course she had thought of the sun, what else did he think the cloak had been for?

"Have I not been a good enough servant for you? Have I not provided for you and kept your every need satisfied? Tell me," with this his grip became tighter and he came closer, she could feel his breath on the side of her face. She refused to look up, "have you once smelled a human since you have been down here, Christine? _No_. The answer is no, because I have taken every precaution to ensure your comfort. You don't know the fire that comes with the scent of a human, the overwhelming desire that takes every rational thought away from you and replaces it with pure bloodlust. You. Know. Nothing."

The quiet anger in his voice raged like a hurricane. He was at her face now and she had no choice but to squeeze her eyes tight against him so as not to be tempted to look. How he still controlled her she could not figure out, but if she simply didn't look, she would be fine, she would be free to make her own decisions, free to her own thoughts—

The grip on her shoulder loosened.

" _Christine_ ," the tone was gentle now, a hushed whisper in her ear. "you must never leave your Erik, he is much too weak to lose you. He is only trying to protect you, his sweet songbird. He loves you very, very much..."

_He is lying, these are nothing but lies, stay focused, stay focused..._

She kept her eyes shut.

She felt his hand drop from her shoulder and instead intertwine fingers with her own hand.

"Christine, open your eyes, there is nothing to be afraid of. I will protect you."

She would escape, but now was not the time. He would have to be caught off guard, and under the impression she was tucked away somewhere safe. The time was coming, and soon, but she had to be patient if her plan was to ever work. At least she had the cloak in her possession now. She was going to have to listen to him if she was going to ever be able to execute her escape.

Hesitantly, she opened her eyes.

A small smile grazed the monster's wicked lips.

"Come sing with me, sweet, the music in us is too good for the world above."

She agreed to follow him down the hall to the music room, one hand still in his.

The cloak stayed tight in her grip.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only 1 drabble chapter left to go!

The front door was unlocked.

It was never unlocked.

She reached out again for the knob, giving it another tentative twist-

_Click._

Her breath hitched and she let go of the knob as if it scorched the skin of her hand.

It had opened.

Just a crack, just a little and the tiniest sliver of air wafted into the room with her. This was it. This was it!

The door had been left unlocked by an oversight of his and freedom was a step - a literal step - away from her.

_Run._

But she couldn't get her legs to move in that direction. How long had she been gone, held captive in this underworld playing Persephone to a Hades she had never known existed? Did she even know how to act in the world that waited above her? Her hands clutched the oversized black cloak around her body as her feet retracted a few steps. Would it even still be Paris when she made it out? Perhaps Erik had actually lied to her and she was not underneath the opera and was instead somewhere entirely foreign to her and she had no means to survive-

A chord shook the walls of the little house, reassuring her of her captor's location. He was always in there; always writing, always tinkering, always completely dedicated to the music that he coaxed from any instrument he held.

Perhaps it was his form of prayer, his own twisted penance to whoever watched over the immortals cursed to walk the Earth until its end. That was, of course, assuming there even was a higher entity set aside for the creature she had become. There was no doubt that she had committed too many sins to ever be considered holy enough for her God ever again.

She was far too gone.

The organ continued to ring, the music much more striking than she'd heard him play in her presence. He was thoroughly distracted by it, had to be, _must_ be because surely he would have heard the door open and felt her leave-

She took another step back.

 _How can you leave him..._ a voice hissed in the back of her mind, _after all he has done for you. You ungrateful girl, leaving without a goodbye..._

Her teeth ground together and her eyes clenched tightly closed. She was leaving! She hadn't asked for this! She owed him nothing!

Yet she took another step further away from the door.

 _Just a simple one, just enough to tide him over...Christine, just a moment of your time...what is a moment when there is eternity before you..._ the voice had taken form of the ethereal voice she knew Erik used from time to time when she had grown too strong for the gaze of his eyes.

The cloak slipped from her shoulders, the clasp having come undone. The door remained open, the damp air of outside just an arms length away.

She couldn't just leave.

She turned from the door, promising herself to only be a moment, to just take a last glance at Erik and then leave this place and take back her life. _Just a moment, just a moment, just a moment-_

His bedroom door was half way open, as if he'd been expecting her. Damned man, he was always a step ahead- always! But no, it was her turn to be a step ahead, a whole leap ahead if her plan went accordingly. His back was turned to the door, his hands stretched across the keys and his coat and shoes strewn across the room. She peered inside then took a cautious step into the room, her hands holding the skirt of her dress in fists. One step turned into two, two into three until she was standing directly behind Erik.

When she was gone she would miss the music. Perhaps that's why she had turned around. Perhaps that's why she now set her hand on his shoulder and leaned against his back. Not because of him but because of his _music_.

He stopped playing.

His hand reached across to gently pull her down to sit beside him on the bench, her back to the keys of the organ.

"I thought you knew not to interrupt my composing, sweet..." He said quietly, a hand tracing down the side of her cheek.

Her lip trembled as words that she didn't know how to say to him desperately wanted to come tumbling out. It wouldn't be wise to tell him that she was leaving, that would ruin everything. What had she been thinking coming in here? She kept her eyes downcast, already feeling the frustrated tears welling up in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she instead whispered, a tear trickling down her cheek.

She heard him sigh. "Now, now, do not cry- you are not in trouble, Christine. You could never cause any trouble, you're far too pure for that, now what did you come in for? Do make it quick though, I was on to something. Are you-"

But she didn't let him finish. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his, eyes closed as tightly as she could. She couldn't say goodbye verbally, but she could say it this way at the very least and that was enough wasn't it? Had to be enough. Had to.

She felt him stiffen and then relax and run his hands through her hair. She pulled away, ready to leave only for him to pull her back to him, his mouth kissing its way down her throat.

The throbbing had returned.

"This is what you came for?" She heard him mumble between caresses, her hands going weak.

"Yes," she lied.

Yet, was it a lie?

Why couldn't she have stayed away! She knew that she didn't know how to tell him no, but she knew that she didn't know how to tell the beast inside herself no either. She was stuck in a continuous carousel of wanting and not wanting all at the same time.

Her hand clutched the back of his shirt as he grazed at her neck, her head falling back to give him more room. She felt his arm snake around her back and the other go down the top entrance of her bodice to tease at her breast. Her legs went slack in front of her making her slide forward on the bench as Erik took the opportunity to lay her back against the organ, a few distasteful notes blaring out in objection to the new weight on the keys.

Her chest heaved up and down as his teeth trailed down the skin of her breasts, biting and sucking her nipple that he had freed from the confines of her bodice. Her own hands were like claws on the back of his shirt, her nails shredding the fabric down his back as she clung to him, her hips already bucking to be near him.

God! Why couldn't she just hate him?

Her hands had fallen from his back and down to his hips, her fingers fighting with the waist of his pants until the button ripped off and rolled onto the floor somewhere below them. The organ cried out again as she was pushed further up on the instrument. Erik had moved off the piano bench so that her legs were around his hips yet he could still lean over her. One of his hands pinned her down by the base of her throat while the other gathered her skirts and pushed them up over her head so that all she could see was a ray of light through the sheer fabric of her dress and the layers of crinoline from her underskirt.

Her hands now pushed against the baseboard of the instrument and were her only means of supporting herself lest she lose her balance against the keyboard she was laid against. However, her hands proved useless as she felt her legs being hitched upwards to rest on both of his shoulders. Her hands pressed down hard and the chord somehow seemed more harmonious than it had before.

She didn't need her eyes to know what was happening below.

It was his tongue at first, and then teeth, nipping at the entry folds of the place that only he had been granted to see. Erik had abandoned any propriety a long time ago when it came to her and she had to admit (no matter how much she wished it wasn't true) that she had too.

She craved him.

Craved _it._

The feeling of his tongue whispering to appease the throbbing, the dancing of his fingers to appease the throbbing, anything to appease the throbbing.

Her life revolved around it.

She squirmed beneath him as tongue transformed into something better, something that she had come to expect and desire and _need._ She let out a hiss as they came together.

_In and out, in and out, in and out..._

She hated the sound of her own voice, hated the song that she unwillingly sang for him as her body willingly did. Her eyes rolled upwards as he continued, his hands holding her by the waist as she was propped between him and the organ.

The music they made was not beautiful- but she _needed_ it.

How could she leave him?

He collapsed atop of her, his face resting in the crook of her neck buried in the layers of her skirt, and her legs slid off his shoulders.

Her breathing was heavy as she struggled to push him off her, but she couldn't find the will to push him off quite yet. If this was to be the last she was to see of him then why couldn't she revel in the moment? After all, an eternity of freedom was waiting for her just beyond that door, what was a moment more?

She used her hands to push the skirt away from her face to finally see him. His eyes were shut. Her breath hitched in the back of her throat. That was the first time in a long time that she had willingly let him have her without the aid of his eyes.

Somehow, that made it worse in her mind. Consciously giving herself over to the inner monster rather than blaming it on helplessness.

She was disgusted with herself.

Yet she didn't regret it.

She gently pushed him off herself before using a shred of his shirt that was left on the bench to wipe at her legs. She threw the fabric piece aside and awkwardly readjusted her breast back into her bodice that now bore a perfect pair of crescent bite marks. They would clear up.

Most of them did anyway.

"I," she cleared her throat, looking down at him as he now leaned against the keyboard, pants on the ground and rips across his shirt. "I'll leave you to your work..." she whispered, before turning away from him and walking through the mess of a music room.

"Christine-"

_Don't turn around, don't turn around just leave-_

She left her hand on the door handle and turned her head to glance behind her- carefully keeping her eyes fixed just slightly to the side of his.

"I love you."

That was it.

She nodded solemnly and let her head be the last thing to turn back around as she quietly shut the door behind herself.

The music that proceeded was the lightest she had heard come out of that room the entire time she'd been there.

She collected her cloak on the way through the hallway, throwing it over her shoulders and the hood onto her head.

She didn't even look behind her as the door shut.

All she could think about was running.

So she did.


	8. Chapter 8

There was a light at the edge of the path.

The labyrinth had been difficult to navigate, but her eyes could see better in the dark now and she could clearly see many of the traps Erik had set for any intruders. She had ran faster than she could ever remember running _before this._ If one good thing had come from her newly damned existence it was the heightened abilities she had only just discovered. To think— she had been away from _him_ for nearly ten minutes now and she had already found all sorts of new useful things about herself, things she could use to her advantage out there in the actual world! Right there—

Right there.

She slowed to a stop right at the edge of the path where a gate guarded the entrance to the underground catacombs, protecting the people on the outside from whatever may lay on the other side. Or perhaps it was the other way round; perhaps the gate was for her own safety, to shield Erik's kind from the rest of the world.

She shivered.

That was exactly the kind of answer Erik would've given her.

Her hands gripped the gate in front of her. One good tug and she could pull it open.

Her grip loosened.

Was she ready? Was she making the right choice? Erik would be distraught, that was a given, but was she ready to be by herself? With no one to ask questions to or sing with or...

Her mind ventured to her and Erik's activities just a few minutes ago.

She swallowed.

She _couldn't_ miss him. Otherwise she would never leave.

She pulled the gate open.

The moon shone high above, a crescent among the thin wispy clouds around it. She let the hood of her cloak fall from her head, freeing her curls from their confinement. One step. Two steps, three steps, four steps—

She was doing it! She was leaving!

A smile lit up her face as she took off at a steady pace, attempting to put as much distance between herself and the gate as she could at a relatively normal _human_ pace. Oh how she had missed the night air! She stopped and allowed herself to bask in its crispness, the pure serenity of it.

She heard a door open behind her.

Her throat tightened.

She had managed to walk just far enough so that she was in front of the entry stairs to the Opera House...in which she could only assume the Opera had just finished up judging by the mass of people exiting through the doors.

 _Blood_.

She could smell it.

Like the first sign of water in a desert, her throat longed for it. And here it was, pumping through every single person's veins. She could practically see it underneath the skin of their arms, the skin of their neck, running through the dainty veins in their hands. Her vision was blurring in and out as her eyes searched for her target.

_No!_

She held her breath.

What was this feeling? It overtook her entire body, this overwhelming need to quench the monster inside, the ever present beast that was clawing up her throat.

Her hands shot up to grasp at her neck.

"Christine? Is that you?"

Her eyes shot open, wide with fear.

She wasted no time trying to see who had recognized her, instead choosing to push through the crowd of people, one hand over her nose and mouth, to get to the closest alleyway. She crashed against the side of a brick wall, her chest heaving up and down. She couldn't control it, she _needed_ it. The forbidden fruit of Eden was just mere feet away from her yet she couldn't taste it— she couldn't! She held her breath again.

_You don't know the fire that comes with the scent of a human..._

Erik's words echoed in her mind, taunting her with their wisdom. She did now though, God help her, she did now! If she could just abstain it until she could find a way past them and away from the city she'd be alright, she just had to wait.

Her vision was going red.

"Christine, wait! You've been gone for months!"

Her body shook, ravaged with the need to breathe, the need to quell the fire that burned from the inside out. She was strong, she was strong, she was strong—

The man put his hand on her shoulder.

All her air came out in a huff and she quickly inhaled the tainted air.

It was the sweetest smell she had ever smelled.

She had him pinned to the ground before she even had a rational thought not to. Her teeth sank into the side of his throat, her fangs piercing the fragile skin. The warmth of it filled her as it gushed from his neck and into her ever ready mouth. She stayed there, hunched over him until no more came from him, until the only blood left was what lingered around the wound that she greedily licked.

She needed _more_.

Christine was disgusted, but the monster was pleased. This was what it was meant for. This was what the power that surged in its veins was meant to do. It was the predator, the world it's prey.

_More...more..._

She sat up, ready to ensnare the next person who chose to walk by—

A flash of blond hair caught her eye.

 _Raoul_.

Her hand flew to cover her mouth.

_No, no, no, no..._

What had she done!

Beneath her, throat ripped wide open was Raoul de Chagny. Sweet Raoul whom she was to marry before she was taken, Raoul who had always been kind to her, Raoul who had saved her mother's scarf from the sea all those many years ago.

A strangled cry escaped her throat.

He was _dead_. Dead because of her. Because of the creature that craved the life of all it touched. Because of her recklessness, because of her, because of her, because of her!

She ran her hands over his face, his eyes forever frozen wide from shock. She slowly crept back, mortified by what laid in front of her.

Her and the monster inside were one in the same.

 _She_ was the monster.

Tears dropped from her eyes and down her face, torn between what to do. She was alone. This was her disaster to fix. Her mistake she'd have to live with for the rest of her life.

However long that may be...

Poor, unsuspecting Raoul, what would his family think when he didn't return home? What would they do if they were to find him here, brutally murdered in the back of an alleyway behind the opera? His sisters would never recover, not after this. How careless she had been!

She felt him before she heard him.

"I will dispose of it later."

She was too numb to even feel anger towards him for catching her. She raised from her knees so that she stood, back towards him.

"I...loved...him," she shakily got out between her cries, her arms pulling the cloak she wore tighter around her, her fists clutching the material.

"I know."

She staggered backwards until she felt her back hit him, his chest like stone. He tucked her into the crook of his arm, wrapping his own cloak around her to shroud her from the outside world.

" _I know_..." she heard him repeat, his own voice faltering.

A cold finger traced down her cheek until it hooked beneath her chin, tipping her face up to look at him. To look at the eyes she had fought so hard to be free of. But now...now she willingly succumbed to them. She wanted to forget.

 _Needed_ to forget.

She was no better than the heathen she accused Erik of being.

"You will not wander from me again, _sweet._ The world does not understand us, they never have and they never will. There is only darkness in this world, unforgiving darkness, but not ours. Ours has its own kind of light, it's own music, it's own rules, it's own love. You and I...you are too good for this world. I saved you from it once many moons ago, I care not to do it again."

His eyes were melting pits of gold, his own tears glimmering through the black of the mask he now wore, his eyes just barely visible underneath his hood but shining brighter than she'd ever seen them.

"Do you understand?"

She nodded, eyes only on his.

A sad smile crossed his lips for the briefest moment.

"You do not, but one day, one day you will..."

He fixed her cloak so that her own hood covered her curls, masking them from the peering glares of passing strangers.

"Come," he ordered, his grip tighter than she would've liked it around her shoulders.

And so she followed him, their cloaks turning them into nothing more than two shadows disappearing into the darkness that lay beneath the Earth...

Condemned to each other for their eternity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End.

**Author's Note:**

> To be continued...


End file.
